


A (fake) Fiance for Christmas

by darter_blue



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Shopping, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Human Disaster Steve Rogers, Light Angst, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Sweet Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:37:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21508261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue
Summary: Steve Rogers is something of a human disaster. His friends tell him he needs to get out more. His boss treats him like a baby bird who needs a nest.And his ex, well, his ex looks at him with pity and worries that he's 'hiding away and brooding'. So it's no wonder that he's just accidentally told Peggy he's in a very serious and exciting relationship - never mind that it's a big fat lie...Cue Bucky, the Hot Guy that Steve can't quite keep his eyes off,  jumping in the deep end to be Steve's fake fiance for Christmas.The chemistry between them is palpable and feelings are hard to shake. Can Steve pull himself together in time to get what he really wants for Christmas? (It's Bucky, you know it's Bucky)A Christmas fic (includes gratuitous use of Christmas shopping, ugly sweaters and awkward flirting)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 123
Kudos: 644
Collections: Fake it ‘til you make it, StuckyAUs, stucky





	1. Christmas 2018

**Author's Note:**

> This is some nice, happy, Christmas fluff.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Fic starts a bit angsty - but it's all up from here, I promise.
> 
> I wouldn't lie to you at Christmas ;)
> 
> xxx

Steve Rogers has always loved a night in with his sketchbook, soft music, a crackling fire and a steaming hot chocolate. Peggy often fondly teases him for being too predictable, although lately the teasing has become less fond and more irritated. ‘Steve you’re stuck inside on this beautiful day,’, ‘Steve, you’re glued to that damned couch again,’ or ‘Steve, you’ve gotten so bloody  _ boring _ !’. But Steve has gone a little wild tonight and spiked his mug with a shot of baileys. So ha! The joke is on Peggy.

Peggy takes this thought as her queue to appear as if by magic.

‘Steve, you’re not even ready!’ She exclaims, sliding into the room on stockinged feet and fluffing her ever perfectly curled hair.

‘For what Pegs?’ Steve is watching her - it's impossible not to watch Peggy, she steals all the focus from a room with her soft curves, sharp jawline and overwhelming sense of presence - as her expression morphs from exasperated to livid. Steve's heart sinks as he realises he's fucked up.  _ Again _ . 

‘Steve, you can’t be serious!’ and as she hooks her red bell earrings in, Steve rushes to calculate his error. Those are Peggy’s favourite christmas earrings, she’s dressed to the nines, it’s a Thursday, so it’s unlikely to be a casual catch up or a club night. Christmas… Thursday… Fancy… oh shit. 

‘No, right, the Christmas party! I didn't forget!’ Steve jumps up from his spot on the couch and spills his cocoa in the process, ‘Shit, shit, shit!'

‘Shit is right Steve, you have about two minutes to get into your suit before the car is here to pick us up!'

And Steve is a dead man, because his suit is still at the dry cleaners, which Pegs had sent him two reminder text messages about yesterday. And he is extra, extra dead (eviscerated with a spoon type dead) because Peggy has clocked the slip up from his expression and her face is shutting down.

‘You cannot be serious,’ Peggy says again, and this time it holds real malice. ‘Steve, what the fuck!’

Peggy so rarely uses profanity, Steve is ready to jump headfirst into the fireplace just to avoid this.

‘Give me five minutes Peg,’ at the further narrowing of her eyes he corrects himself ‘two minutes, Peg, my grey suit is in the closet, it’s ready to wear I swear.’ It isn’t though. Steve knows it and Peggy knows it, the grey one doesn't even fit him any more. The surprise growth spurt he'd had at twenty five had given him an extra inch in his legs and two across the shoulders (who has a growth spurt at twenty five? What grown man only has two suits? What is his life?) 

Steve hears the chirp from Peggy’s phone app and knows the car is already downstairs. 

‘I’m not waiting for you Steve,’ Peggy says, and even scarier than the anger is the disappointment. She looks and sounds resigned now, ‘I’m done waiting for you.’

‘Pegs, don’t be like that, I can fix this!’ Steve pleads, because this is not a disaster, this is a stupid Christmas party for fucks sake.

‘How? What will you wear, your jeans? It's Black tie, Steve!’

‘I can wear my fat Santa Christmas sweater! Tony will laugh, it will be fine!’ It probably would be perfect, Tony Stark may be a billionaire but he’s a sucker for an ugly Christmas sweater.

‘I’m so sick of having this same argument with you Steve, every day,’ Peggy is dashing about the apartment, throwing things into her clutch purse and fuming in his direction.

‘Not the  _ same _ argument,’ Steve responds petulantly. Which he knows is a mistake as soon as the words are spoken.

‘Jesus Christ, Steve,' Peggy swears, holding her forehead in her fingertips. 'I hate this. I hate being this person.' And she’s finally stopped moving to stand in the doorway of their open plan living, dining, kitchen, to take a deep breath. Maybe it won’t be a big deal. Maybe she can just go without him this year. He takes a step over to her with his hand out in truce.

'I'm sorry, Peggy, I am, but it's just a party,' Steve goes to touch her and she pulls back sharply.

'Its my career Steve, this is my work.  _ Our _ work, and you don't care enough about any of it to make a fucking effort.' she spits, backing away. Which is terrible, god, why is she always so mad.

'I do care, I love you!' Steve tries to reach out but Peggy shakes her head and walks backwards to the door, slipping her heels on when she gets there.

'It’s not enough, Steve. I've been watching you stop caring for  _ years _ and I can't do it anymore. I won't.' Peggy's phone chirps again and she curses at it under her breath. 'I have to go.' she grabs the keys from the hook by the door and clutches them in her palm.

'Can we talk about it when you get home?' Steve begs, desperate to get her to just calm down. Forgive him again for being so hopeless - she used to think it was charming!

'No,' Peggy shakes her head, 'I'm not coming home.' The door shuts behind her with a resounding crack and he's left staring at the empty space of their foyer. 

True to her word Peggy is out of the apartment and moved into a hotel by the next day.

It’s the first Christmas he's spent alone since his mother died. He cries for a week.


	2. Independence Day 2019

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all fluff from here.

The first half of the year had seen Steve throw himself into work. The promotion at Stark Industries to head his own Environmental, Health and Safety team came with the benefit of Tony Stark's endless generosity and a swanky new apartment on the employee floor of the tower. Steve is seventy percent sure Tony only promoted him so he could give him the apartment - no one can afford a place alone in Manhattan and living out of his suitcase in a week to week rental was killing his soul. 

He's embracing the new role, and his new team, despite the fact that he and the project manager for the president of communications have been separated for six months now (yes, it's still awkward). In fact, being the boss means he can send Natasha to do all the team’s liaising with the marketing department. He spends a lot of time happily pretending that Peggy doesn’t exist.

But the promotion also means more mandatory appearances at SI events, and this one, the independence day picnic, is a doozy. Tents spilled out across the sprawling grounds of the Great Lawn at Central Park - Tony hired it out every year - filled with food and fun for the employees and their families. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if half the fairground booths had been repositioned here for the day. 

Steve is somewhat immune to the frivolity this year, mind you. _ Everyone _ from the company will be at the picnic. Which means Peggy will be there. Which means Steve spends the entire day actively trying to avoid her.

'Steve!' 

He is wholly unsuccessful.

'Peggy, hi!' Steve turns from his hiding spot under a particularly lush cherry blossom, plasters on a smile and hopes it’s convincing. 

The pitying grimace he gets in return suggests otherwise. ‘Oh Steve, you’re still pining,’ Peggy says sadly. Which is totally unfair! Because firstly, six months out of a five year relationship is not a long time and secondly, how dare she just call him out on it like that! Where is her compassion? 

‘Not at all, Pegs,’ Steve charges through it, calling on all his tenth grade theatre class acting skills to back him up. ‘I’m doing really well actually.’

‘Oh, I have no doubt darling, I heard all about the promotion and the move.’ And it could be that Peggy is happy for him, but it's just as likely that she's totally patronising him; with Pegs it's hard to tell. ‘I hope you're getting out and about though, I hate to think of you hiding away and brooding.’

Which didn’t really excuse him from blurting out, ‘Actually, I’m seeing someone!’ like giant word vomit. Although the curious arch of Peggy’s meticulously groomed eyebrow is almost worth it.

‘You are?’ It's painful that she sounds so surprised.

‘I am,’ he replies convincingly (if only it wasn’t a big fat lie). ‘Someone great!’

‘Is it serious?’ Peggy asks, and an evil little piece of Steve’s soul is glad that she sounds upset.

‘It could be,’ Steve says, ‘I hope it will be.’ Which at least carries some truth. Because Steve has never been good at casual dating. Any relationship for him is going to be a big one.

‘Well that’s lovely, Steven, did you come together? I should love to meet he-’

‘Steve!' someone shouts, cutting Peggy off. 'Where have you been?’ Tony Stark is yelling at him across the grounds. ‘Get over here!’ he points to a marquee behind him and turns back to it, expecting Steve to follow blindly. 'Oh, hello Pegs.' he says as an afterthought. Peggy offers Tony a jaunty wave in return.

‘I better run,’ Steve apologises, gesturing back at Tony with his thumb, ‘duty calls.’ And just in time too. 

‘Alright then,’ Peggy says, raising her voice as Steve backs away, ‘Introduce me next time!’

‘Will do!’ Steve calls back and thanks any god listening for Tony’s complete lack of social grace.

Steve makes it to the empty marquee in time to see staff carry in a huge cake covered in candles.

‘What is this?’

‘It’s a cake,’ Tony deadpans.

‘It has my face on it.’

‘It’s  _ your  _ cake.’ Again, Tony is absolutely straight faced. 

‘Jesus, Tony,’ Steve huffs, staring down at at  _ least _ thirty candles scattered across his face, ‘Am I really this old?’

‘Fuck off, kid. Some of us have been on the downside of thirty for a lot longer than you.’

‘Yeah, alright, old man,’ and it  _ was  _ a lovely gesture, people didn’t tend to remember Steve’s birthday when they had a national holiday and giant company picnic to distract them. Which sort of explained the empty tent. ‘Where is everyone?’ 

‘Ah well, I may have double booked the cake and Natasha’s turn in the dunk tank.’

‘Oh shit!’ Steve barked, ‘You put Nat in the dunk tank?’

‘Every team has to be represented,’ Tony says, ‘Clint couldn’t because of his stitches and you couldn’t because it’s your birthday!’ his pitch increasing as he gets more and more defensive.

‘What about Sam?’ Steve asks.

‘Well… Sam convinced me it would be more hilarious to put Nat in.’

‘Oh, she’s going to kill you all.’ Probably Steve will get caught in the crossfire - but it might be worth it. ‘Come on, I don’t want to miss it.’

Steve must be well out of the loop if all of this has been organised around him. Nat  _ had _ been complaining about his being so mopey lately. Clint had tried and failed to give him dart lessons no less than three times in the last month. Maybe Steve needed to take Peggy’s advice and put himself out there - Peggy was a very smart woman. Maybe he should’ve taken her advice more often when they were together, maybe then she wouldn’t have left him.

He follows Tony to the dunk tank, sitting out amongst the other booths and tents holding the fun and games for the day. 

Someone whispers, ‘I know where you live, you know,’ slyly into Steve’s ear out of nowhere and his heart goes into tachycardia.

‘Christ, Natasha,’ Steve puts a hand to his racing heart and admonishes his teammate. ‘You’re like a fucking  _ ninja _ .’

‘Which is exactly why you should be worried.’ She looks at him with a flat stare and it's as disconcerting as ever. Natasha Romanoff has a knack for being supremely unsettling and uses it wisely. She's also the first coworker at Stark Industries that Steve ever called ‘friend’ (that wasn't Peggy). He's glad to have her in his new team knowing she'll have his back.

‘Hey this is the first I’m hearing about this, Nat,’ Steve argues. 'Point that death stare at Sam, it was his idea.’

‘Oh, I see how it is,’ Sam huffs, coming up beside Natasha to watch all the action, ‘throw your team members under the bus.’

‘I call it like I see it, Sam,’

‘I guess you’re the boss.’ Sam’s easy smile takes the bite out of his words and Steve laughs along with him.

‘And as Supreme leader,’ Nat interjects, ‘you’ll have to bear the blame for all of Sam’s decisions, I’m afraid.’

‘She’s got you there  _ Captain _ .’

‘Hey,’ Steve cried at both of them, ‘it’s my birthday, cut me some slack.’

‘Aww,’ Sam said, clasping him on the shoulder, ‘I can’t wait to eat a slice of your gorgeous face, Steve.’

‘Ew,’ Nat said with distaste, scrunching her delicate nose, ‘no thank you.’

‘Nat, I have it on good authority that my face is delicious,’ Steve teased, leaning slightly forward and laughed when Natasha put a palm to his cheek to gently shove him away. 

‘I think good authority is pushing it,’ Natasha frowned, still angry at Peggy for the breakup (like he said, Nat has his back). ‘But speaking of delicious…’ Natasha’s attention shifts to the man currently sitting his turn in the dunk tank, fanning herself with her hand.

Steve follows her line of sight and is struck by the truth of her statement. The man in the tank is stripped down to shorts - which makes sense, since he’s already been dunked at least once (by Clint it seems) and is now dripping wet - and his body is lean and muscular. Long dark hair hides most of his face, and Steve's too far away to makeout any prominent features, but he's laughing at someone heckling him, a light, happy sound and something about it hits Steve with melancholy. When was the last time he had been that free and happy? 

He must be staring, a nudge from Sam brings him back to the present. ‘Keep it in your pants, man,’ he says with a wink, ‘no more office romances for you.’ 

‘Thanks for that great advice,’ Steve snarks, though his eyes flick back to the tank and watch the man get dunked by Carol from security (she has an arm on her - Steve has seen her pitch, it's a beautiful thing). The sight of the guy sliding gracefully back up out of the water, all that toned, tight olive skin on display, dripping wet, is something Steve’s not likely to soon forget.

‘Doesn't seem like you’re going to take it though.'

‘What? Oh, ah… no, I mean, Sam. That’s not...’

‘He’s allowed to look, Sam, Steve appreciates good aesthetics when he sees them, isn’t that right Boss?' Natasha throws him a wink. And she knows she isn't helping.

‘Didn't know you were into guys, Cap.’

‘I'm not, I don’t think.’

‘You're not sure?’

Steve just shrugs. And Sam can see that he’s uncomfortable, so he drops it.

He watches the man climb out and down from the tank and make his way over to the tent where they are waiting. He flips the wet hair away from his face and Steve and Natasha both swallow nervously.

‘So hot,’ whispers Natasha, and Steve is inclined to agree. She looks over at him with a pleased grin and takes off to make her way to the tank. As she passes Hot Guy they share an exchange and whatever she says has him look up and lock eyes with Steve. He looks surprised and appreciative, but before he gets any further, Steve sees Peggy in his periphery, and panics. He takes off back to his birthday tent, blows out the candles by himself, takes a huge slice of his ridiculous jaw and disappears from the picnic. He’s had his fill of human interaction for the day anyway.

It's a shame he misses Clint dunk Nat not once but twice. 

He does chuckle over the photos on Instagram later that night - and commiserates Clint’s poor ruined phone that was thrown with him headfirst into the tank, clothes, shoes and all - as he crawls into bed. Alone. Again. 

  
  



	3. Halloween 2019

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some Lumberjack Steve for you <3
> 
> Merry Christmas

It’s been months since the last major Stark Industries shindig and Steve still isn’t prepared for the occasion. He managed to kit himself out in an acceptable costume, has spent the last three and a half weeks growing out his beard (and trimmed according to an online GQ 'manscaping' article) and with a flannel shirt, dark green cargo pants and hiking boots - a plastic axe in a holster across his back - he looks okay. Stark won't be happy (‘be sexy this year Steve, for the love of god’. ‘You’re not allowed to ask him that Tony, that’s harassment’) but he’s comfortable and warm. So Stark can suck it.

Only when he shows up, Tony takes one look at him and just nods. Steve doesn’t get it at all.

Natasha and Clint flit by in tight black outfits and fake guns, Steve suspects they are meant to be spy’s and the matching thigh holsters are working for both of them. 

And of course Peggy’s around somewhere - he spotted her in a fitted world war two military uniform that should be illegal (life is not fair) and he spends a lot of time making sure he’s nowhere in her sightline. 

For this he needs alcohol, so he heads over to the bar on the second floor mezzanine in Tony’s ostentatious entertaining space at the tower. 

The bartender is busy with a rowdy group of the human resources team. They seem to have coordinated their outfits as the justice league.

‘Hey’

Steve turns at the greeting and finds Hot Guy from the dunk tank sitting on a stool behind him at the bar.

‘Hi,’ Steve greets back, and fails to hide the once over he sweeps up and down the length of that memorably muscular body. Hot Guy is spectacularly cosplaying Captain Jack Harkness and Steve can’t catch his breath. ‘You...ah… Captain Jack?’ He has the ankle length grey-blue RAF coat draped over the stool next to him, a light blue collared shirt that draws attention to the grey-blue of his eyes and suspenders clipped onto tight black trousers that cling to thick thighs. The hand gun in the belt holster only accentuates how trim his waist is. Altogether, Steve is positive this is the textbook definition of a sexy costume. 

‘Hey, yeah! You recognise me? Are you a fan?’

‘Of the show?’ the guy nods, ‘a little. More so Dr Who than Torchwood.’

‘I get that. I like them both, though I’m mostly just a big fan of John Barrowman.’ Hot Guy’s enthusiasm is charming. 

‘Who isn't?’ Steve says with a smile, put surprisingly at ease in the face of so much attractive in such close proximity.

‘He was my first crush actually,’ continues Hot Guy, and Steve’s not sure what his face does but the guy looks a little nervous. ‘Which is an overshare, really, now that I’ve said it out loud,’ and Steve’s laugh at least brings back the guy’s smile.

‘No, I… well,’ Steve gestures to the uniform, ‘I can see why he would be,’ and Hot Guy's smile ramps right up. Steve isn’t lying. He doesn't even mean it as a line, not really, he can see exactly how a man in that uniform, unashamedly interested in all people equally, sexy as hell, would spark the kind of awakening that's normally reserved for teenagers. Steve just happens to be having it now.

The bartender sidles up to them and Steve looks down at the drink in the guys hand and asks him, ‘what are you drinking?’ 

‘Tony has these halloween cocktails, bourbon and maple… they’re good actually.'

‘Can we get two more?’ Steve orders and smiles a thanks at the bartender. ‘I’m Steve, by the way,’ he holds out his hand to introduce himself.

‘I know,’ says the guy with a smirk. To which Steve blushes.

‘You do?’

‘Yeah, you sort of caught my attention,’ he says easily. Like its not terrifying to be so openly interested. ‘I looked you up.’

‘I don’t know your name, I’m sorry,’ and Steve wishes he had the forethought to have done some investigation of his own after the picnic.

‘That’s okay,’ he laughs and Steve shakes his head with an amused huff, because that’s not an answer. 

‘Well, you’ll have to actually give it to me, I can’t just keep calling you ‘Hot Guy,’

‘You can if you like,’ he laughs, smiling with his entire face, ‘but it's James.’

Steve’s blush has taken over his whole body, but he’s smiling too, handing over the fresh drinks from the bartender and tapping their glasses together.

‘James,’ he confirms with a nod.

‘Right, but my friends call me Bucky.’

‘Well, hello,  _ Bucky _ .’ It’s as he takes his first sip that he sees Peggy and ducks his head, hoping to use the glass as a shield.

‘You okay?’

‘I’m… hiding from my ex.’ Steve tries to explain around his glass. Bucky follows Steve’s eyeline and spots Peggy with her boss, Chester Phillips, a man she'll shortly be replacing, if rumours are to be believed.

‘Yeesh.’

‘Yeesh?’ though Steve gets where Bucky is coming from, Peggy is a  _ lot _ .

‘I mean, sucks for both of us,’ continues Bucky, elaborating, ‘that’s a tough act to follow.’

And Steve is sweating into his stupid flannelette shirt.

‘You’re not wrong,’ Steve agrees, and feels Bucky tense at the words. ‘But you’re not wholly right either.’

‘Okay,’ Bucky says, ‘I’ll bite,’ and he leans his chin into his palm, elbow on the bar.

‘Peggy was -  _ is _ \- an amazing person,’ Steve absently swirls the dark liquid in his tumbler, trying to find the right words. ‘She was always expecting me to be on the same level - ambitious and adventurous and metropolitan. It was exhausting trying and constantly failing to live up to that.’ 

‘Are you telling me you're  _ not _ amazing?’ Bucky asks, incredulous.

‘Far from it,’ Steve admits.

‘Could’ve fooled me, Pal.’

Steve ducks his head at that, pleasantly buzzing from the compliment (and the bourbon). It’s distracting enough that he takes his mind momentarily off task.

So of course Peggy spots him.

‘Crap,’

‘Oops,’ Bucky grimaces in apology, ‘she’s heading over’

‘Steve!’ she calls, vigorously peppy.

‘Fuck it,’ Steve swears under his breath, Bucky gives him a nervous side eye, ‘Pegs’

Rather than offer pleasantries or make small talk, Peggy jumps right into an interrogation. 

‘So, did you bring her? Where is she I wanted to meet her.’ It’s put Steve straight on the back foot. So he, quite understandable, blabbers like an idiot.

‘Huh? who?’

‘You’re lovely new girlfriend.’

He must look lost. He is lost, to be frank. Steve hasn’t had a girlfriend since Peggy. He just stands there with his mouth open like a bemused fish.

‘Oh no, Steve, did you break up already?’

‘With who?’ Honestly, Steve just needs the other shoe to drop. Preferably on his head. And from a great height.

‘The new relationship you were so happy about at the picnic? Was it  _ not _ serious?’ Peggy asks, confused. ‘You wouldn’t fib to me, would you?’

'No, yes… I… my relationship…’ Steve’s heart plummets - oh, his fake girlfriend. He can’t even keep a  _ fake _ girlfriend.

'It is a  _ relationship _ ,’ Bucky pipes in from behind Steve, jumping from his stool and stepping forward. ‘Not a  _ girlfriend _ though. Hi, I’m Bucky’

‘Bucky?’

‘Right, Bucky, Steve’s  _ boyfriend.’  _ Bucky holds his hand out for Peggy to shake.

And Peggy doesn’t seem to know what to do with that information except use her manners, and take the hand offered. ‘Hello, Bucky, I’m Peggy.’

‘It’s nice to finally meet you Peggy.’

‘I don’t… I’m not…’ Peggy looks from Bucky to Steve and back again, herself now lost in the situation. ‘It’s nice to meet you too, Bucky.’ She rallies like a champ, classic Peggy, ‘I must admit, you’re not what I was expecting.’

‘I gathered,’ Bucky says pleasantly, ‘but hopefully it’s not a problem.’

‘Oh, not at all!’

‘Good.’ Bucky’s smile is victorious and Peggy glances at Steve with her signature eyebrow raise.

Steve tries not to look blindsided and undermine what Hot Guy -  _ Bucky _ \- is trying to do for him. He’s leaning into Steve’s space with his hard lines, warm skin and the faint scent of maple. He grabs Bucky around the waist before he can back away and then looks to Peggy with a smile between his flushed cheeks.

It’s surprisingly genuine.

‘Yeah, I… wasn’t quite sure how to tell you, Pegs,’ he says, blushing. And Peggy is eyeing him shrewdly.

‘I’m impressed with you, Steven,’ she looks to the arm he has around Bucky and raises that killer eyebrow, ‘If only you’d found this adventurous spirit when we were still together.’

And Steve will always have a weak spot for the first love of his life, but that was rude, even for Peggy. 

‘I guess it’s lucky for me that he didn’t,’ Bucky says, grin entirely smug. And Steve’s heart does a little flip in his chest. 

‘Does Tony know about this?’ she gestures to Steve’s arm around Bucky’s waist.

‘No,’ Steve says removing his arm, but keeping himself pressed against Bucky, ‘and I’d appreciate you not saying anything.’

‘Is it - are we not allowed?’ Bucky asks, curious. Possibly for the first time wondering if this was a good idea. Which it isn’t - for the record - as Steve is well aware. 

‘There’s no policy against it,’ Steve says defensively.

‘But with you being new, dear,’ Peggy uses her patronising voice and Bucky’s expression suggests he is not a fan, ‘it might not make a great first impression. Particularly if it ends badly.’

Which is a bit rich, considering Peggy and Steve had met at Stark Industries as fresh faced interns, started dating very early in their careers there and then had enough of a shit show of a breakup to still be office gossip nearly a year later. 

‘Peggy,’ Steve starts, uncharacteristic warning in his tone, ‘do me a favour and don’t assume all of my relationships are going to end in a dumpster fire.’ Peggy flinches at the remark, and Steve should feel bad about that but he doesn't. Especially when Bucky reaches out to hold his hand. ‘I’m not incapable,’ except that he really, really is. 

‘No, Steve, of course not.’ And she does seem exasperatingly fond. ‘I’ll keep it to myself, until you’re ready.’

‘Thank you, Peggy.’

‘Yes, well. You boys enjoy your evening, I shall leave you to it.’ And of course she winks at Steve on the way past, giving his arm a consolidating squeeze and quietly adding, ‘I do like the beard.’

‘Wow,’ Bucky says as he watches her walk away.

‘Yeah,’ Steve agrees. Whatever else Peggy is (which is a lot, and then some), she’s always a showstopper. 

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to throw myself in there like that,’ he looks sheepishly up at Steve, unfairly beautiful with those sharp cheekbones and captivating blue-grey eyes, ‘I may not have really thought that through.’

‘No it’s… I didn’t mind.’

‘You don’t really have a new girlfriend somewhere around here?’ Bucky says, looking around the party as if Steve’s imaginary girlfriend might pop up out of nowhere. 

Steve laughs, ‘no, afraid not,’

‘No boyfriend?’

‘No,’ Steve shakes his head, ‘never have had one of those, actually.’

‘I see,’ Bucky looks like he was expecting that. ‘But you wouldn’t be opposed?’

‘I think… I think it’s something to think about.’ 

With Bucky pressed tightly into his personal space, even after having moved around to face him, Steve is finding it difficult to breathe.

‘That’s a lot of thinking,’ Bucky smiles, wistful.

Steve nods, he wants to say something more positive but he isn’t sure how. Or what. He chickens out. 

‘Thank you for saving me.’

‘You’re welcome, Steve, anytime.’

And Bucky looks so hopeful, Steve wonders if he could do this. Bucky would be someone new, someone unexpected, so different from Peggy and someone to talk to and laugh with and hold close. Something he hadn’t had in a long time. Maybe Peggy leaving wasn't such a sudden thing.

‘Will you stay and drink with me?’ Steve asks, breathless at asking for something he wants and doesn’t know if he should have.

‘I suppose you can twist my arm.’ Bucky’s smile is wide and open. Steve wonders what it would feel like to not be completely terrified of what people think of you.

‘At least until Peggy’s gone?’ And Steve is such a fucking disaster, because why would he say that? 

‘Right, of course. Until Peggy’s gone.’ Bucky’s smile falls and Steve hates himself. All he has to do is take it back, or be honest… please try Steven… say something... ‘What will you tell her when you see her next?’ Bucky asks. And it’s a reasonable question. 

‘Well, at this rate, I won’t see her again until Christmas, I’m sure I’ll come up with a plan sometime between now and then.’ God, he just wants to slam his head into the mahogany slab of a bar. What is wrong with him. What is he so afraid of?

‘Well keep me in the loop,’ Bucky says, downing a mouthful of his cocktail. ‘I wouldn’t want to say the wrong thing and get you in trouble.’ He places his glass down on the bar and steps away. 'Catch you round, Steve.'

  
Steve meanders back to his apartment alone. And when he dreams that same dream of losing hold of someone’s hand in a sea of moving people, for the first time, it’s not Peggy’s hand he loses. It’s Bucky’s.


	4. Thanksgiving 2019

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve really is a human disaster.
> 
> Oh Steve.

True to his word, Steve has yet to run into Peggy again since Halloween.

He’s also been avoiding Bucky.

He _is_ unfortunately forced into human interactions by his teammates, not only on a day to day basis at work, but also in frankly socially invasive ways, with their constantly showing up at his apartment with dinner and wine (he doesn’t mind _so_ much when it’s wine) and fully ingratiating themselves into his life. Before the party it was a welcome reprieve from his loneliness, but now it feels intrusive. Is it too much to ask that he just wallow in his own idiocy alone and unencumbered?

Tonight Sam is in his kitchen at one of the stools of Steve's island bench while Steve attempts to cook chicken breast in his skillet. It's not terrible, but it's about efficiency of calories in for Steve at this point, he doesn't have the energy for frills.

'Steamed veggies, Steve?' Sam asks, 'you watching your figure?'

'Fuck off,' Steve jokes, a little self conscious.

'Steve, you lap me on our run every morning. Your abs have abs. Where's the potato, man?'

'Im just… on the backside of thirty now. Doesn't hurt to be healthy.' Which is true. He's also been privy to all of what Bucky has going on, the miles of toned olive skin and perfect muscle definition. For no good reason that Steve can articulate (or will admit to) he’s increased his morning run to five miles again and is keeping his simple sugars to a minimum.

‘But dude, carbs. Aren’t you Irish? Isn’t it a crime for you to cut out carbs?’ 

‘You showed up out of nowhere,’ Steve argues, ‘you don’t get to yell about my food choices!’

‘Okay, okay,’ Sam relents. ‘Is all this about whatever’s had you in such a bad mood lately?’ Steve falters on flipping the chicken and has to perform some complex maneuvering to keep it in the pan. He looks over at Sam like it’s his fault but Sam is having none of it. ‘Oh it definitely does,’ Sam declares, looking smug. ‘Spit it out.’

Not thrilled about the prospect, Steve spends another minute messing with the chicken while Sam waits him out. Sam is a surprisingly patient man. 

‘I may have… done something dumb.’

‘That sounds like you,’ Sam nods, unsurprised. ‘Care to elaborate?’

‘You remember that guy?’ Steve asks, ‘the one from the dunk tank at Stark’s picnic?’

‘Your man-crush?’

Steve winces, ‘Right, well it might be more than a man-crush?’ Steve is watching to gauge Sam’s reaction to that, but he’s just patiently waiting for Steve to continue. ‘I might umm… like, like him.’

‘You might _like_ -like him?’ Sam asks, ‘are you pre-pubescent?’ His eyebrows are doing that thing where they try to climb into his hairline. 

‘I mean, I want to… date him, maybe,’ Steve shrugs. 

‘And that’s dumb because…?’ Sam is looking at Steve all expectantly and Steve can only hide his face in his hands. 

‘Because I let him lie to Peggy that we're already dating, and then wasn’t brave enough to tell him I would like to do it for real.’ Steve is bashing the heel of his palm into his forehead repeatedly, ‘now he’s waiting for me to fix it and tell him when it’s safe to not have to _pretend_ were dating anymore.’ Under his breath he just mutters, ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid.’

‘Yeah, that’s not ideal.’ 

‘Gee thanks, Sam.’

‘Hey, don’t be mad at me, friend, I didn’t get you in this mess.’ 

‘Sorry, sorry.’ Steve mumbles, dishing up the chicken and vegetables onto two plates and flopping dejectedly into the stool next to Sam at the bench. ‘I just want to go back in time and say, “Hey, its funny you told Pegs you're my boyfriend. Why don’t we go laugh about it over dinner?’” Steve does an impression of himself - the smooth version that gets the guy, and isn’t a loser. ‘God, I’m such a disaster.’

Sam nods along, fully aware of Steve’s inability to human. It’s a constant source of hilarity for all of Steve’s friends (all three of them) and he’s sure they only love him because he makes them look so much more put together by comparison. 

‘What’s stopping you from doing that now though?’ Sam asks. And it’s a reasonable question. Because there is nothing stopping him now. Except that every day longer he waits to ask, the more awkward and creepy he becomes. 

‘I missed the moment, Sam.’ Steve huffs into his food. ‘It would be all stilted and uncomfortable now.’

‘Bullshit dude,’ Sam says, shaking his head. ‘Just call him up. Or go pester him in his lab. He’s on the R and D team for the new alloy applications, right?’ Steve’s eyes widen at Sam’s suggestion. 

‘Have you been stalking him?’

‘Hey,’ Sam barks, ‘some of us actually bother to get to know the other people who work in our company,’ he swats Steve over the head. ‘Don’t sass me. And eat your vegetables.’

The conversation about Bucky peters off after that and Steve is glad for the reprieve. But he does spend most of the rest of that week wondering how he might casually drop into Bucky’s lab and ask him out for a drink. If that’s even what people do anymore. _Jesus_ , it’s been a long fucking time since Steve went on a date. 

  
  


It's the next day when his luck in avoiding Peggy runs out. At the supermarket, of all places, Steve runs into her in the freezer section. He’s wishing his meddling friends hadn't abandoned him on the one holiday he could’ve really used their lack of social propriety and mulling over whether to bother and buy himself a turkey roast (which, let’s admit, he’ll eat all of and then go to bed stuffed and miserable) or boycot the holiday and get a frozen pizza (but god, they look sad as _fuck_ ) when Peggy strolls up next to him with a trolley and a winning smile.

‘Steve, darling, fancy seeing you here,’

Peggy has a cart full of food, including a huge turkey, and Steve feels a sinking in his gut. He really needs to tell her something about the fake relationship, even if it’s just that it fake ended. Because they all three of them work in the same - albeit enormous - building and are going to run into each other eventually. 

‘Hi Peggy,’ he reaches over to kiss her on the cheek that she’s offered to him, ‘you look like your set to cook up a storm.’

‘Yes, well, I have exciting Thanksgiving plans Steve,’

‘Oh yeah?’ Steve’s sinking feeling escalates. Peggy’s beautiful apartment (he’s guessing it’s beautiful, he hasn’t actually seen it) will be full of shiny, happy people for thanksgiving, while Steve sits alone on his ugly, lumpy couch and watches football eating a shamefully sad as fuck frozen pizza.

‘Yes, in fact, I have you to thank for it,’ Of course she does. He’s not sure how though.

So he politely asks, ‘You do?’ and actively tries not to melt into a puddle of sad lonely goo on the cheap linoleum floor.

‘You and your Bucky inspired me to be brave!’ Peggy’s smile is so joyful, ‘Angie and I are going to spend the holiday together!’

‘Angie Martinelli?’ Angie Martinelli had been a friend of Peggy’s at Brown. She spent a few weekends visiting New York and staying with them in Manhattan and Steve remembers thinking they had the kind of chemistry that made them seem like the only two people in the room. 

‘The very same.’ Well, it made sense.

‘That’s great Pegs,’ Steve says with sincerity. Because he does want her to be happy. But it’s not so great for Steve, who’s about to come clean about being a lying lier who lies and look like a total boob in front of the frozen dinner-for-ones. 

‘Are you spending the day with your boy?’ she asks nonchalantly.

‘Well, that’s the thing,’ Steve starts, straightening his backbone. ‘He’s not my boyfriend anymore.’ The disappointed resignation about to take over Peggy's face is mortifying. He can’t do it. He is not this pathetic (he’s not!). ‘He’s my Fiance!’ Oh, Steve... no.

‘What?’ Peggy’s face shuts down. What the fuck was he thinking (he wasn’t)? ‘You’re engaged?’

‘Er… yes?’

‘After five months?’

‘Ah… six?’ Steve says, like this might make it better.

‘Well,’ and Peggy is ropable. Actual steam might be billowing off the top of her meticulous curls, ‘I wish you every happiness, Steve.’ And she struggles to swing the trolley around to take off in the opposite direction. 

‘Peggy, wait,’ Steve says as Peggy pushes off. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry, Steve, be happy.’ she says, finding her composure. ‘It’s all I've ever wanted for you.’

The kicker is that Steve knows she means it. 

‘Pegs?’ he calls. She turns back with her patented eyebrow raise. ‘I know.’

She smiles and shakes her head, turning away to leave him staring at the frozen turkey rolls and very seriously questioning his own sanity.

He needs to talk to Bucky.

He gets home and has every intention of calling Natasha to bum Bucky’s number off her and bite the bullet. Instead he binge watches nailed it on netflix and buries his head in the sand. 

He does this for the whole weekend. 

And then he runs into Natasha at work on monday. Which was bound to happen, being that they work together. He’s the boss, even. 

‘So!’ she says, in lieu of an actual greeting. 

‘So?’ Steve asks, though he hesitates to engage her in conversation.

‘So, Sam was telling me about your middle school crush on James Barnes.’ Wait, who?

‘On who?’

‘ _Bucky_. Christ, Rogers, James Buchanan Barnes? Extremely hot postdoc from R and D?’ she stands, hands on hips, looking like a disgruntled kindergarten teacher. 

‘Oh, _that_ James Barnes,’ Steve replies. And realises he’s never bothered to find out Bucky’s full name. Steve is morbidly useless.

‘You should go talk to him, Rogers,’ Natasha elbows him right under the rib. ‘He gets this sad kicked puppy look on his face every time I mention you.’

‘What!’ he slaps her bony elbows away from his abused ribs. ‘Why are you two talking about me?’

‘Oh, no reason,’ Nat smiles and Steve can feel the colour drain from his face.

‘Nat, no.’

‘Steve, relax, I just like to talk you up to the newbies.’ Her smile turns more devilish, which is terrifying. ‘Tell them how much of an all american beefcake you are under those awkward fashion choices.’

‘Natasha!’ Steve sputters.

‘It’s a crime, wrapping those muscles up in frumpy, old man clothes,’ she shakes her head. ‘A crime.’

‘Oh my god.’

‘Just go and talk to him, please?’ Natasha would never lead him astray, Steve knows. So it’s probably the right thing to do.

‘Okay,’ he rubs his hands over his face and then shakes it off, takes a steadying breath. ‘Okay, I’ll go now, before we get started on that Solar Farm report.’

‘Yay!’ Natasha claps her hands and wolf whistles at him as he shuts the door on his way out.

  
  
  


Bucky’s labs are ten floors down from the Environmental Health and Safety team and Steve spends the entire elevator ride down pep talking himself into this visit. By some miracle he makes it all the way to the striking white walls of Stark Industries research and development laboratories. Where he stands for approximately half a second before he spots Bucky at one of the hot desk computers in the bank that sit along the right side wall, and Bucky spots him right back.

‘Steve?’

‘Hey,’ Steve says with a little wave. He doesn’t deserve the soft happy smile that Bucky gives him in return. ‘Do you have a minute?'

Bucky wastes no time abandoning his session and locking his screen. ‘I have lots of minutes for you, Steve.’ Steve can feel his cheeks heat up at Bucky’s eagerness and clings to the courage that got him all the way down here to make his confession.

‘Would you… I mean should we get a coffee?’

‘That sounds great,’ Bucky smiles even wider and Steve is a weak man, because he can't help but smile back and ride the happiness all the way down to the cafe in the building lobby. He wishes he didn't have to confess this idiocy to Bucky. He wishes he had been brave enough to ask him out for real right from the beginning. 

Too late for that now.

As soon as they've sat down with their drinks Steve blurts out 'I spoke to Peggy,' and Bucky chokes on his peppermint mocha. Steve just sort of winces in sympathy and waits for Bucky to swallow it and breath again.

'That's… umm, yeah. How did that go?' 

'Well, there's good news and bad news.'

'Alright,' Bucky steals himself, 'hit me with it.'

'So I told her you're not my boyfriend,'

And Bucky deflates right there at the table, 'Oh.'

'But I might have accidentally told her you're my fiance-'

‘What!' Bucky squeeks. Legitimately squeeks. ‘Oh Steve, why?’

It’s Steve’s turn to deflate and he feels the air puff right out of him as he slumps into the table, head in hands. _‘God_ , I’m such a disaster.’

Bucky reaches a tentative hand out to Steve and pats him on the head. ‘You’re not a _disaster_ , Steve.’

‘I am,’ Steve nods to his words morosely, looking up at Bucky through his fingers.’I’m a human dumpster fire, Buck.’ And through his fingers he can see Bucky reach out to take his hands and hold them across the table.

'Okay, Stevie, say I believe you about this dumpster fire nonsense,' Bucky squeezes his hands for reassurance. 'Nothing is unfixable.' 

Steve takes a deep breath and squeezes Bucky's hands in return. 

‘Do you think we need to worry that Peggy will tell someone?’ Bucky asks. God, Steve hadn’t even thought of that. Being happy not to mention him dating a colleague is very different from not mentioning them being engaged. 

‘Maybe?’ Steve guesses, ‘I’m not sure, and I’m too afraid to try and talk to her again, _christ_ knows what I might tell her this time.’ Bucky laughs at that. Steve wishes he could take that sound and keep it in his pocket.

‘So, ‘ Bucky starts, ‘Option one, we come clean and tell Peggy it was a lie.’ 

Steve shakes his head voraciously. Not only because it would be mortifying, but also, Peggy was so hurt by the idea of his wanting to marry someone else so quickly, to find out it was a lie would drive an irredeemable wedge between them. 

‘Okay, option two, we stage a fake break up and go our separate ways.’ 

Steve shakes his head again because that seems like an even worse outcome. breaking ties with Bucky before they even get a chance to get to know each other? The idea of it sends a cold shiver through Steve, it frightens him that he might miss out on this.

Bucky looks relieved to see Steve veto that one, and gives Steve’s hands another gentle squeeze. Which, Steve hadn’t even realised he was still holding them, it's such a comfortable touch.

‘Option three,’ Bucky bites his lip nervously and takes a deep breath, ‘Option three, we keep up the pretence. We pretend to be engaged and don’t hide it.’ 

Steve watches for any sign of discomfort in Bucky at this option and is at least satisfied that he’s not upset about it. 

‘And what would that look like, do you think?’ Steve asks, wondering how Bucky thinks they might be able to pull it off.

Bucky shrugs, ‘I guess, we hang out? Spend time together… practise being comfortable around each other... ‘ Bucky hesitates before adding, ‘Go to the big Christmas party together?’

All of which seem like Steve’s recent fantasies become reality. And Steve doesn’t realise he’s nodding along until Bucky laughs at him and says, ‘Okay, big guy, I guess we can go with Option Three.’

They hash out plans to catch up again for coffee at work over the next few days, let people get used to seeing them together. And exchange numbers, because a fiance is someone who should really be in your contacts list. Steve goes so far as to add Bucky to his favourites. The knowledge of which brings a soft pink blush to Bucky’s cheeks that has Steve smiling. 

‘You should do that more often,’ Bucky says when he sees it, ‘It suits you.’ 

Steve isn’t sure it’s something he can really control, but he has a feeling Bucky is going to be seeing a lot more of it as they start to spend time together.

  
  
  
  



	5. 13 days to Stark's Christmas Party 2019

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's beginning to look a lot like these boys are falling for each other...
> 
> Oh - and some Christmas Shopping xx

It’s the week after Black Friday, and Steve is hoping that means it’s safe to brave the stores again. Bucky is meeting Steve at Macy’s - what better way to take an intense relationship course with someone than to go Christmas shopping together - and Steve is surprisingly excited about the prospect of elbowing his way through an overpriced, overcrowded department store in too many layers and with no idea what he’s buying. These things seem suddenly bearable in the company of his extremely sweet and ridiculously attractive fake fiance. 

‘Where to first?’ Bucky asks as Steve sidles up to him on the snow covered sidewalk. 

Steve leans into the warm comfort and distinctly fresh combination of citrus and wood of Bucky’s aftershave to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Hello to you too,’ he says, smiling, and the blush that rushes to the surface of Bucky’s creamy, clean shaven complexion is always welcome. 

‘I keep forgetting we’re supposed to be doing that,’ Bucky looks up at Steve sheepishly and it’s too adorable. Steve chooses not to pursue that thought, that the kiss was for show and not just Steve’s overwhelming desire to touch and be touched by Bucky. He grabs Bucky by the hand and locks their fingers together.

‘Come on, _honey_ , let's start with you,’ Steve leads him towards the entrance, ‘What did you want to look for today?’ 

Bucky’s rolls his eyes at the term of endearment and Steve takes that as encouragement to come up with a list of obnoxious pet names he can start teasing him with. They start at the fragrance department so that Bucky can get his mother’s favourite perfume - the price of which, for such a tiny bottle, is extortion (and Steve keeps finding reasons that Peggy was so right to kick him to the curb, add cheap-skate to the list), but Bucky laughs and says ‘it’s _Burberry_ , Steve,’ as if that should somehow explain it. 

Next they head to the home section to look at tea sets for Bucky’s little sister Becca, and Steve is yet again laughed at when he’s confused by the age appropriateness of a tea set for a twenty-something woman and not Bucky’s grandmother.

‘Millenials are all about tea now, Steve,’ Buck picks up a small delicate teapot covered in bright geometric patterns, 'Becca goes nuts for anything mandala these days.’

Bucky may as well be speaking a different language, but Steve will take his word for it. It does look like a happy, peaceful sort of way to enjoy tea. They pick up some cute clothes for Bucky’s best friend Scott’s daughter and Steve is inspired to purchase a pair of the purple unicorn socks for Clint as well (he nabs the biggest size they have), knowing how much he will love them.

An hour and a half in and Bucky calls a time out for snacks.

‘Alright,’ he says, clapping his hands together and rubbing them, ‘You’re buying me a pretzel.’ And Steve appreciates a man who knows what he wants. 

‘Lead on,’ Steve says, tucking an arm into the crook of Bucky’s elbow and letting him lead Steeve back out to the street. They take the subway from Herald Square to Delancey and Bucky takes him to the Loreley Beer Garden. Steve buys the pretzel basket and lets the waitress choose the beer for their pints. Sitting by the outdoor heaters, with Bucky snuggling into his shoulder because he is a, ‘God damn furnace, Stevie’ is the best way Steve has found to spend an afternoon.

Once fed and watered, they traipse the markets in Soho, drink warm cider and eat copious amounts of donuts. Bucky finds a copy of Harry Nilsson’s ‘The Point’ on vinyl for his dad and they stroll on happily until Bucky spots a copper-ruthenium black heart pendant that he suggests to Steve is perfect for Nat, and Steve has to admit that Bucky is good at this. Sam’s is the only present Steve has organised on his own, tickets for them both to go see the Nets in the spring. The date means more than the seats, only because Sam knows how lax Steve is at planning. Just knowing that Steve is committing to actually leave the apartment and take Sam somewhere is a big deal. 

‘So you’re coming out with me today is a big deal?’ Bucky asks, when Steve tries to explain that to him.

‘I mean… yeah?’ and Steve shrugs sheepishly, 'I'm usually a total couch potato, blanket burrito, hermit type. You should feel very privileged right now, Buck,’ he jokes. The answering smile on Bucky’s face is so bright you could see it from space. 

They agree to part ways at Canal Street and Steve doesn’t want to say goodbye. It strikes Steve that a whole day of shopping, walking through busy streets, commuting on packed subway cars and not one minute of breathing space has not damaged him, and he has, in fact, very much enjoyed himself. 

They stand a hair's breadth from each other, bags weighing them down and keeping their hands busy, but Bucky leans in and whispers, ‘Can I kiss you?’ 

Steve's tongue darts out at the thought of Bucky’s mouth on his, and looks down from Bucky’s pink lips, up to his beautiful eyes and nods his head. 

Bucky reaches up to close the distance between them and presses his full, soft lips to Steve’s. They fit so perfectly against Steve’s it takes no effort to lean into them, open to them, taste the sweetness of the cinnamon that's lingering, and trace his tongue along Bucky’s top lip, sliding lightly against Bucky's tongue. Bucky pulls back slowly, the taking Steve's bottom lip with him, and opens his eyes to Steve watching him. He blushes and drops his forehead to Steve’s chest.

He sighs into the buttons of Steve’s pea coat, ‘I better go.’

Steve rests his bearded chin on the crown of Bucky’s head, breathing in the coconut scent of his hair.

‘It’s gonna suck saying goodbye to you, Steve.’ Bucky says sadly. Steve pulls back to duck his head and check Bucky’s expression.

‘It's not for long,’ he says gently, ‘You’re gonna see me again Monday Buck, we have a coffee date.’ 

‘That's not really what I mean,’ he says with a sad laugh. ‘But yeah, I'll see you Monday.’ And Bucky sneaks a quick kiss to the underside of Steve’s jaw before stepping back and waving with an arm full of bags and then turning away.

‘See you, Buck!’ Steve calls out to his retreating figure.

  
  


He doesn't know why, after such a happy day, he goes to bed feeling restless and antsy. But a text from Bucky to say ‘sleep well’ and queued episodes of Queer Eye on his lap top (reccomended by Clint for educational purposes) relax him enough that he drifts off, dreams full of deep, blue-grey water and a boat floating just out of reach.


	6. 8 days to Stark's Christmas Party 2019

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fake dating homework?
> 
> Steve, I think you're just looking for an excuse to ask Bucky to dinner...

Their coffee dates have become the best part of Steve's day, sitting across from Bucky drinking in all the warmth and happiness that radiates off him in droves is better than Xanax for his nerves. But now, after spending a full day with Bucky, they feel too fast, too fleeting and he wants more. 

He has the brilliant idea to invite Bucky over for dinner after work.

‘We’ll be able to quiz each other, take a “how well do you know your fake fiance” questionnaire,’ Steve suggests, when he passes by the labs for his morning Bucky fix ‘I'll make queue cards!’

‘I don’t know, it sounds a bit like homework’ Bucky teases with his soft smile. ‘What’s in it for me?’

‘You mean besides my stellar company?’ Steve asks.

‘Yeah,’ Bucky rolls his eyes, ‘Besides that, mister Humble.’

‘Hmm…’ Steve pretends to mull it over, having already planned to cook Steak with his Ma’s best potato casserole. ‘I guess I could feed you?’

Bucky’s eyes go impossibly wide, ‘Oh yeah?’ 

‘Yeah,’ Steve says, smiling with a shy enthusiasm bolstered by Bucky’s excitement. 'Wanna meet me at my place around seven?'

'I guess I could do that, seeing as there's free food involved.' 

They part with a tentative kiss on the cheek, mindful of the audience and the lie they need very little convincing to sell. 

It’s after seven and the potato has been on for an hour. It will take at least another thirty minutes to cook through, and Steve is taking the foil off the top to let it form the golden cheesy crust that makes it so delicious. As a kid, his mom would always dish him up the crunchiest, cheesiest portions, it’s a wonder he was so skinny for so long. Sarah Rogers complied to the Irish Catholic school of showing affection through food, the bigger, the richer, the saltier, the more the love was meant. Steve doesn’t often get a chance to tap into that history, putting your feelings into your food isn’t as fun when your alone (and can get downright dangerous, re the ice cream cake and cool ranch dorito incident of May 2019). This is all very exciting and invigorating to the sad recluse Steve has become.

Bucky knocks just as Steve is rummaging through his drawers to find anything other than his plastic dinosaur placemats to set the table with (turns out there is nothing, Peggy took all the linens with her). Steve has to take a steadying breath at the sight of Bucky on his doorstep, he’s so soft and inviting in a pair of light jeans and a worn, grey, crew neck sweater. Steve wants to pull him into the apartment and just hold him. And then he realises that actually, he _can_ . So he _does_.

_‘_ Hel _-lo,’_ Bucky says into the crook of Steve’s neck and Steve pulls back from the hug slowly, brushing along Bucky’s cheek with his nose. ‘What’s got into you?’

‘Just happy,’ Steve says with a smile. ‘And, you know, we’re engaged now. That’s how I like to greet my fiance.’

‘Ah’ Bucky says, index finger to his nose and then pointing to Steve, ‘copy that.’ 

Steve chuckles at Bucky being an adorable nerd and then drags him by the hand further into the apartment. ‘Would you like a tour?’

‘Give it to me,’ Bucky says. Steve knows he’s being funny, but his insides still do a little flip at the innuendo.

‘Well, this is the kitchen, dining, living. Open plan obviously.’ Steve gestures to the large expanse of space that the apartment opens into. The kitchen is along the right hand wall with a huge island bench that then moves into the dining space and closes on the living space with a three seater couch and armchair facing the television on the left wall. ‘The bedrooms are back here,’ he pulls Bucky along to the hallway from which the guest bedroom, bathroom and then master bedroom open off. ‘This one’s mine,’ he shows Bucky through, pointing to the ensuite and walk-in-robe as they move through to the balcony that opens from the floor to ceiling windows. ‘My Favourite place,’ Steve says as he opens the glass door. the view of New York is pretty spectacular, and Steve has set up a table and chairs that he likes to sketch from when he has spare time.

‘Wow.’ Bucky takes a minute to stare out at the city and then looks back at Steve, eyes narrowed and head tilted a little, as if he’s puzzling him out. He’s about to say something when a shiver runs over him. ‘Jesus it's freezing out here.’

‘Come on,’ Steve says, grabbing Bucky and wrapping his arm around his shoulders, ‘Back inside, you.’ 

As they pass back through to the kitchen, Bucky asks after the spare bedroom, ‘What’s in here?’

‘Ah…’ Steve looks up and away, trying to come up with a good answer.

‘You keeping secrets in here, Stevie?’ he asks with a smirk.

‘Just... basically every piece of crap I own that needed to be thrown out of the way,’ Steve says sheepishly. He’s never been a tidy person, but he did want to make a good impression.

‘Let's leave that closed then shall we’ 

‘Thank you, Bucky.’ Steve says, letting out a held breath, ‘I knew I liked you for a reason.’

  
  


They eat diner at the dining table on the dinosaur placemats and with mismatched plates and cutlery - everything Steve owns seems to have become one of a kind - even his flatware is alone. Bucky makes no mention of it, except to say ‘cool!’ when his cartoon T-rex’s change colour under the heat of his plate. 

‘This is actually amazing Steve,’ he says, taking another too big mouthful of the casserole - having polished off his medium-rare rib eye in about four bites.

‘Thanks,’ Steve huffs with a laugh, ‘I’m going to pretend you don’t sound so surprised.’

‘Sorry,’ Bucky ducks his head, ‘I'm not much of a cook,’ he confesses with a shrug. ‘It’s a nice surprise.’

Steve smiles and lets it go. He kicks at Bucky gently under the table, ‘So, first question,’ he points his fork at Bucky across the table. ‘Favourite band?’

Bucky deliberates for a moment then answers, ‘Changes every day.’

‘That’s not a legitimate answer.'

‘It's the truth!’ Bucky argues. ‘I could never choose one. I love finding new music to listen to.’

‘Fickle,’ Steve says, shaking his head. Bucky kicks him back, not quite as gently and Steve laughs. ‘Okay second question, Best friend?’

‘This is gonna sound dumb,’ Bucky starts, tucking a srtay stand of hair behind his ear, ‘But probably my sister?’

‘That doesn’t sound dumb,’ Steve says softly.

‘I just, I’ve always had lots of friends, but not _close_ friends, you know?’ Steve nods, because he does know. Only, he never had a little sister to come home to, just an overworked single mum who tried her best to be there for him. 

‘Becca’s only two years younger than me, which makes her twenty six if you wanna put that on you queue card, Stevie,’

‘Good to know,’ Steve says, filing that info away for future use. 

‘So we got to be friends by default. And I got lucky,’ he says with fondness, ‘because she’s awesome.’

Steve takes note of the wistful expression and catalogues it for later. He also briefly considers changing the subject lest Bucky ask him about his own friends, and then remembers Bucky actually knows them and is fully aware of how ridiculous they are.

‘I never really had any friends growing up,’ he admits, which isn’t something he likes to talk about, ‘I spent a lot of time in the hospital with pneumonia, messed with my social life.’ He shrugs his too big shoulders (he remembers when they were too, too small) and tries to shrink in on himself.

‘You have some pretty crazy friends now though,’ Bucky says, shifting the focus from Steve’s discomfort. ‘They seem pretty fond of you.’

Steve is glad for the change of subject and smiles his thanks, nodding at Bucky’s assessment of the few people at Stark Industries he would say are the closest thing he has to family. ‘They’re an acquired taste,’ Steve jokes, ‘in that I’ve acquired them and can’t seem to get rid of them.’

Bucky laughs and shakes his head, ‘You and your dad jokes.’

‘You love it,’ Steve teases, and Bucky’s cheeks do blush a lovely shade of pink. 

‘Shush,’ he says, ducking his face down and shoveling another huge mouthful of the potato. Steve is happy to just watch him eat, and Bucky’s blush intensifies under the attention. ‘Eat your food.’ Steve gives him a mock salute and gets back to his own dinner. 

They make it over to the couch with coffee when Steve finds out that Bucky is a huge fan of the great british bake off, and they stream episode after episode, each trying to outdo the other in disastrous baking stories while their knees press together on the cushions, feet tucked underneath them and their heads lean ever closer. They wake up like that when Steve’s smart phone alarm indicates it’s well past the time he should have been up - let alone that Bucky hasn’t been home and is delightfully rumpled and notably confused.

‘Steve,’ Bucky’s rubbing sleep from his eyes and running his hands down his face as he looks up at Steve, ‘What happened?’

‘We fell asleep, Buck,’ Steve informs him gently, ‘It’s already past seven.’

Bucky jumps up as if cattle prodded into action, crying out ‘Shit!’ as he roots around for his cell phone and a functioning brain. ‘Oh, fuck!’

Steve is behind the island in the kitchen, pouring beans into the coffee maker and heating up milk - it’s going to be a triple shot kind of morning. ‘It’s okay, Buck, your already basically at the office remember?’ Steve is watching Bucky panic with a fondness born of relatability. Usually it’s Steve freaking out doing the whole, shit-crap-fuck-I’m-so-late-for-work dance, trying to find his door key under the couch cushions. 

Bucky slows down at the realisation he has, in fact, only to take the elevator down a few floors to get to his labs. By the time he has sunk back into the couch and run his hands through his mop of messy bed head, Steve is slipping a hot, strong latte into his hands with a smile and a quick kiss on the cheek.

‘Good morning, gorgeous,’ Steve says, pulling away from Bucky’s rough stubble reluctantly and smiling at the blush that’s reappeared across his sharp cheekbones. He takes great pleasure in the sight of it back, like an old friend. 

‘Morning, Stevie,’ Bucky replies with a smile, leaning back into Steve’s space to plant a brief but pleasant kiss to Steve’s lips, revealing it as Steve’s turn to blush.

‘I’ll um… let me get you some clean clothes to wear. You can have the first shower.’ Steve steps back and stumbles into the armchair, blushing deeper and escaping to the bedroom to find something of his that might fit Bucky and be appropriate enough for the labs. He settles on a pair of dark jeans that never fit him right after his infamous growth spurt and a blue cable knit sweater that will be big on Bucky, but is a little snug through the shoulders on Steve. He decides against loaning him any briefs but has a pair of tartan cotton boxers that he once used as pyjamas - he just climbs into bed in his underwear these days - and some nice warm socks.

When he hands the bundle over to Bucky with a fresh towel and a sheepish grin, Bucky reflects the grin back to him and slides his hand across the width of Steve’s back on his way past to the guest bathroom. 

They’re tentatively affectionate with each other as they drink a second coffee and eat a quick bit of buttered toast at the bench seating. They head to the elevators hand in hand and when Steve gets off on his floor, Bucky pulls him in for a deeper, fuller kiss than his good morning peck on the lips, opening up to Steve and licking softly at the tip of his tongue, dragging his teeth gently along Steve’s bottom lip as he pulls back, hands fisted in the buttons of Steve’s polo. He looks up at Steve from under his devastating lashes and smooths the polo back into place with the flat of his hand. ‘Have a nice day, Stevie.’

Steve is left stuck in the open doorway of the elevator until Bucky lightly pushes on his chest to force him backwards and out of the way, offering a cute wave as the doors drift shut.

By the time Steve manages to squeak out a, ‘Yeah… bye,’ the elevator is gone and he’s talking to no one. 

Clint gleefully points out that Bucky and Steve’s relationship is all anyone anywhere in the building is talking about. Which doesn’t hurt their cause, but it does give Steve minor heart palpitations that have Clint fanning him with a three ring binder and laughing unabashedly at the comedy of errors that is Steve’s life. 

‘Nat told you everything, didn’t she,’ Steve surmises, hiding his head in his hands and letting out a low groan of melodramatic anguish. 

‘Yeah buddy,’ Clint laughs with a pat to Steve’s shoulder, ‘You’re our primary source of entertainment,' and shrugs good naturedly. Steve can't fault their choices. 

***

Tony Stark catches Steve in his office a few minutes before knock off on Friday with his serious, I’m-still-the-boss face. 

‘Oh jeez, what now?’ Steve asks, exhausted from his day of avoiding Nat, Clint and Sam’s attempts to get him to talk about his  _ feelings _ . ‘Did that sign off on the solar farm fall through?’ The company wanting to lease the land were being particularly cagey about finalising the insurance contracts.

'No, well, yes actually, but that's not what this is about.' Tony narrows his eyes and looks more nearsighted than menacing, but Steve chooses not to say anything. 'This is about you and Barnes, my shiny new postdoctoral researcher, fucking up a storm.'

'Ew, Tony, language.'

'Im sorry, bumping uglies? Churning butter?'

'Tony, jesus-'

'Dipping the wick? Getting your Twinkie stinkie-'

'Stop, please! Christ!' Steve is facepalming so hard he can see stars. 

'Just trying not to offend your delicate sensibilities, Rogers.'

'Oh my god, Tony, no, I mean-' Steve can't very well tell him he's got it wrong, because this is the narrative they were looking for. Only he hates how crass it sounds from Tony, 'It's none of your business.'

'Ah sorry kid, this whole damn tower is my business, very literally, so, try again.'

'It's not… against policy?'

'While that's technically true, your on thin ice here…make this good.'

'It won't affect our work?'

'Eergh,' Tony effects a buzzing sound, 'wrong answer, try again.'

'Look, Tony-'

Tony folds his arms, prepared for stupidity.

'This is serious for me,' Tony unclenches his stance as Steve gets honest, 'And I promise, nobody will get hurt.'

'Bad promise,' Tony says, but he doesn't elaborate. 

'He's important to me, okay?'

'He's important to me too, sport. Don't fuck this up.'

'I won't-'

Tony rolls his eyes ferociously

'I'll do my best,' Steve says instead. And Tony must think that's enough because he huffs a huge sigh and then turns on his heel and strides towards the elevators. 

Tony steps in as soon as the doors open and then looks back at Steve with his eyebrows raised. 'Try to live less of a soap opera, yeah Rogers? It's bad for business.'

And Steve would argue, but he'd be one hundred percent in the wrong. 

  
  
  



	7. Stark Christmas Party 2019

It’s a chillingly cold and miserable Thursday night that, in a perfect world, would find Steve sitting on his couch drinking spiked hot cocoa and reading pulpy crime fiction, curled up by the (grossly modern) gas fireplace in his Stark Tower apartment. 

Alas no. 

The last two days at SI had been a shit show for Steve and his team, the solar farm had had an accident with three of its panels being delivered and the safety repercussions were an epic nightmare.

So his plan to leave early to get his suit ready, get his beard groomed, have Bucky picked up in a Stark car and then meet him downstairs, sees Steve instead running to the elevators, jamming the up button forty seven times (which Jarvis tells him is unnecessary with too much attitude for an AI system) before nervously shifting on his exhausted feet all the way up to his floor and crashing into the apartment with only ten minutes to make it to the party on time. 

Steve had at least born the presence of mind to let Bucky know he hadn’t organised the car via a hasty text message half an hour ago. The three messages he received in return, ‘no problem,’ ‘hope you’re okay,’ and ‘let me know if you need anything,’ at least enough to reassure him that Bucky was up to speed on the catastrophe that is Steve Rogers.

But Steve wasn’t sure the sentiment of those sympathetic texts would stand once Bucky made it up to his apartment to find Steve on the floor of his bedroom, his wardrobe having exploded in a crazy mess, no suit in sight, no dress pants without a hole in the knee, or a frayed hem, no shirts of which the sweat stains wouldn’t be more embarrassing than going bare chested. Nothing, not a single thing, to wear. 

Bucky let's himself through the open door, into the bedroom, takes one look at him and shakes his head, ‘Oh Stevie, what happened?’

‘I didn't leave in time to pick up my suit from the dry cleaners.’ Steve says, flopped on the floor in his boxer briefs and Stark Industries polo shirt, Bucky standing over him in a well tailored, stunningly royal blue suit and black silk shirt, hair all wavy and free and just a hint of stubble. ‘I am a thirty one year old adult man and not one of my shirts is fit to be seen in public.’

Bucky looks down at him from the doorway with concern, ‘You really are a disaster aren't you?’ he says faintly teasing.

Steve just nods. He's lucky Buck is only his fake fiance, otherwise he'd be spending another christmas on the backend of a tragic dumping.

‘Oh, sweets, don't look so dejected!’ Bucky edifies, ‘This is a Tony Stark Christmas booze up. We're not meeting the _queen_.’ and Steve laughs despite feeling like a hot mess. 'That's the spirit!'

'Buck, I'm so sorry. We're already late and I have nothing to wear, and... And my beard's a mess and _I'm_ a mess… _Christ_.' He's looking down at himself in shame but Bucky is just shaking his head.

'Steve it's really okay. You got stuck at work, it happens '

'I should've had all this organised days ago!'

'We can just stay home if you want? Tony knows how busy you've been, dealing with the accident. He'll understand.'

And Steve is _so_ tempted to blow it off, stay home, burrito into a fluffy blanket and get wrecked on store bought eggnog. But Bucky looks amazing, all dressed up and ready to make a good impression at his first Christmas party, and Steve desperately wants to be a person that can _do_ this. Can make a date and keep it, can be relied on. Can be loved. 

'I don't want to be a failure two years in a row.'

Bucky's eyes soften and he steps further into the room, standing right over Steve in his useless heap on the floor. 'Okay, we can work this.' He reaches down and grabs Steve by the hand to pull him up. 'Where are those blue chinos you wore shopping last week?' 

Steve is touched by the matter-of-factness in Bucky’s expression. He’s not angry or frustrated, no pity or exasperation. He just genuinely wants to help. So Steve kicks his sorry ass into gear and pulls the pants in question from the pile of clean laundry he has yet to put away. 

'Yes!’ Bucky directs Steve to throw them on the bed, ‘And what's the most hideous Christmas sweater you own?' Steve doesn’t even have to deliberate, he goes straight for the box in the bottom of his closet that contains the Christmas sweaters Tony had made up for him as a gag gift two years ago - each with the photoshopped face of a friend on an elf with a huge head and tiny naked body. Bucky cracks up at the sight of it and claps his hands together. 'Perfect!’

Steve’s not convinced it’s a good plan, 'I can’t go like this when you look so beautiful,' he says dubiously. Steve doesn't want to mess up Bucky’s first company Christmas Party by looking like a festive hobo. But Bucky just laughs, eyes alight at the prospect of turning up on the arm of the most ridiculously dressed person there.

'Well, how many of those do you have?' he asks, eyebrows waggling.

Which is how Bucky and Steve arrive at the famous, formal, high flying Stark Industries Christmas Party with tiny naked elves proudly displayed across their chests, Bucky’s elf with Steve’s giant bobble head and Steve’s elf with Tony's. 

Tony takes one look at them and collapses to his knees in a fit of laughter. Steve is afraid he might have an actual heart attack. 

'You’re alright, you know that, Rogers.' Tony cries between bouts of breathless laughter, ‘I officially sanction this union. Couple of the year, these two!’ he calls out to the party at large gesturing to Steve and Bucky in their matching outfits. Steve can see Sam doubled over with laughter, Clint holding himself up leaning on Sam’s bent back, tears in his eyes, while Natasha stands by them at the bar, cocktail in hand and predatory grin stretching from ear to ear.

Bucky nods at the guests graciously and squeezes Steve's hand as they move through the party, accepting hugs and handshakes from just about everyone, all with huge smiles and happy compliments on their audacity. Nobody mentions anything about an engagement, but everyone is under the impression that Steve and Bucky are a couple. Clint wanders over to them as they wait for drinks at the bar and holds a piece of mistletoe over their heads, which Steve snatches away and then leans in to kiss Bucky anyway, because, as if he needs mistletoe as an excuse to get his lips on Bucky’s. Natasha cheers from across the room which catches the attention of Peggy - accompanied by Angie, both looking flawlessly polished and regal as hell - who proceeds to wade through the crowd towards them, fire in her eyes.

‘Here we go,’ Bucky says under his breath. Steve straightens his spine and prepares as best he can for the encounter. Which is to say, not at all, because when Peggy is involved, Steve can’t be trusted to do anything right. 

‘You boys are looking very festive,’ Peggy says by way of greeting, reaching up to kiss both Steve and Bucky on the cheek.

‘You look just as stunning as always,’ Steve replies, with a nod to both Pegs and Angie, who is standing slightly behind her date and waiting to be introduced. ‘How are you, Angie?’ 

‘I’m good, great actually,’ she says, shaking his offered hand with a warm smile. She offers her hand to Bucky as well, who shakes it happily and introduces himself. 

There’s a moment of awkward silence where the four of them haven’t figured out what to say next and of course Peggy breaks it with her British, stiff-upper-lip. 

‘It’s good to see you happy, Steve,’ she smiles, a little wistful, ‘You‘re looking surprisingly at home here this year.’ 

Steve’s eyes go straight to Bucky at her comment, telegraphing the fact that it’s the company that has him so relaxed, comfortable being himself in a way he hadn’t been around Peggy for so long. Bucky’s arm slides around Steve’s waist in solidarity and Peggy and Angie look to each other, obviously keen to make their retreat. 

‘I should make the rounds though, darling, there’s lots of schmoozing to be done,’ Peggy takes Angie’s hand as she steps back, 'have a lovely Christmas won't you.' She turns and sashays away to a group of finely dressed guests across the room. 

Steve reaches across his stomach to hold Bucky’s hand at his waist and lean back into him. ‘Well, that went okay.’

Bucky squeezes his waist in return, pressing his chin over Steve’s shoulder. ‘Yep,' he says right into Steve's ear, 'You didn't accidentally tell he we were having a baby or anything.' Steve elbows him in the ribs, 'Oof, I'm very proud of you, Stevie.'

They stand like that, pressed against each other, until their drinks arrive, and for a while after. People come and go, they eat the canapes as they drift past, drink with each of the colleagues that visit them at the bar, laugh again with Tony and his wife Pepper when she comes to congratulate them on giving Tony such a wonderful christmas present, arriving dressed as they are. 

It’s the most fun Steve’s ever had at one of Tony’s Christmas parties. It’s actually the most fun he’s had at _any_ Stark Industries event. And he tells Bucky as much, once they’ve had their fifth cocktail and are propping each other up at the bar, their laxation due more to the exhaustion of the evening than the alcohol they've consumed. 

In their voraciously relaxed state, Steve has both arms around Bucky and is cradling him against his body, their combined weight held up by the mahogany bar behind them. Bucky smells like cinnamon and whiskey and Steve might be content to just breathe him in, but all the soft hair, warm skin, and tightly bound muscle is calling out for contact. The growing, casual affection between them has been pulling at Steve for a while now so he tunes into that arousal, aware that it's been a constant hum settled under his skin right from the beginning. It fes different now though, grown more comfortable, more confident with time and proximity, and the knowledge of the real possibility it will find a physical outlet. Maybe even tonight. 

He wants it so much, close as they currently are, Bucky can probably feel that arousal pressed against him. A theory endorsed by the barely perceptible roll of Bucky's hips and the heavy breath he exhales, leaning his head back against Steve’s shoulder.

‘Hey Buck,’ Steve closes in and whispers into Bucky’s ear, ‘Want to get out of here?’

Bucky breathes a ragged ‘Yes,’ as he nods enthusiastically. 

Which is how they end up slipping out before the night has ended and stumbling back up to Steve’s apartment, leaving a trail of ugly Christmas sweaters on the way to Steve’s unmade bed. Steve finds himself clawing at the buttons is Bucky's shirt, desperate to get to the glorious chest underneath. Bucky, for his part, is much more controlled, so careful with Steve even now.

'You won't break me, Buck,' Steve says between kisses, ripping Bucky's undershirt up and over his head, 'I can take it.'

'I have no doubt,' Bucky replies with a grin, taking in the sight of Steve's bare chest with a reverence Steve's not used to (it's been a while) 'But I want to take care of you, make sure things don't get too carried away.'

'Buck.'

'Steve, this is your first time, right?'

'I mean it's been a while,' Steve says reluctantly, 'but I have done this before you know.'

'But not with a guy.'

'No, not with a guy,'

Bucky places his hands against Steve's hard worked for pectorals, 'So, let me take care of you, Stevie,' and places his mouth right over Steve's nipple. Which is… well.

'Okay, Bucky, okay,' he complies breathlessly, running a hand up into Bucky's hair and holding on.

Bucky licks his way down Steve's chest, murmuring sweet platitudes the whole way, Steve has really forgotten to pay attention to the words in liui of the sensation of Bucky's mouth on his skin. Lower and lower until Bucky has stripped him of his pants and his entire ability to use functional thought.

Bucky takes excellent care of him. 

Eventually they make it into the bed and Steve gets to appreciate Bucky in return as he talks him through exactly how to stretch and prepare him while Steve watches entranced, hands gently placed where Bucky needs them, fingers led to their perfect positioning until Bucky is a shaking, moaning mess of perfection under Steve and they can rock together, holding each other, laughing when Steve nearly takes his own eye out with the condom (it really has been a while, okay) and they have to open a second - which Bucky delicately takes over the application of. 

Steve has never felt so free and fun and sexy in his thirty one years of living. 

Later, Steve is relaxed to the point of near unconsciousness, breath so steady he’s probably already ninety percent asleep, when he hears Bucky sigh behind him, burying his nose into Steve’s hair. ‘I wish this was real, Stevie.’ And Steve wants to tell him it is, all of it, but he’s not awake enough for words, so he grabs onto Bucky’s hand, pulling it into his chest, and hopes that says enough.

Steve wakes up well before Bucky the next morning. Tony always gives them the Friday after the Christmas Party as a bonus holiday and Steve knows he will be glad for that later, but right now, with the memory of Bucky’s bittersweet confession weighing heavy on him, he wants to be able to march into Peggy’s office and tell her everything. Get it all in the open so he can free them from the pretense and just date Bucky for real.

He does the next best thing.

‘Steve,’ Peggy mumbles into the phone, fumbling to get her mouth to the speaker, ‘What’s wrong.’

‘I need to tell you something Pegs.’

‘Can it wait Steve, its-’ he hears rustling, ‘five oclock in the blasted morning.’

‘Just let me say this,’ he begs, and takes the silence as permission. ‘Were not really engaged.’

‘What?’ Peggy asks, confused and probably still half asleep.

‘It was a lie, I made it up.’ Steve blurts it out as fast as he can. Ripping off the bandaid.

‘Steve?’

‘I’m so sorry, Pegs, I just couldn’t keep being such a fuck-up.’ He can hear her judgement in the breathing coming down the line. She doesn’t even need to say anything. ‘The whole relationship was a lie.’

There’s a beat before Peggy speaks again, sounding much more awake now, ‘It didn’t look like a lie,' she says, astute as ever.

‘It didn’t feel like a lie,’ Steve says. ‘I don’t want it to be.’ He waits, shaking his leg with nervous tension, for some response to vindicate him. 

‘For heaven’s sake, Steven. You don’t need my permission to ask the poor boy to make it genuine.’

Steve lets out the breath he’d been holding. Had felt like he’d been holding for weeks. ‘Right, you’re right.’ He’s nodding like an idiot into the phone. ‘When he wakes up, I should just tell him I like him. Ask him out to dinner.’

‘He’s there with you now?’

‘Yes?’

‘Jesus, Steve, I think it’s pretty real by the time you’re putting your dick in him.’

‘Pegs!’

‘Grow up and go and get him something full of grease and sugar for breakfast, apologise profusely and promise to try not to be so stupid in the future.’ Steve just keeps nodding maniacally into the phone.

'Breakfast, right, good idea.'

'Now bugger off and let me sleep.'

'Yes, yes, thanks Peggy. Thank you.'

He hangs up and pulls on some pants and his stupid Christmas Sweater to leave the apartment and go down to the bakery for fresh bagels and cinnamon buns. Bucky is still asleep when he gets back but he wants to tell him this now, get it off his chest, so he gets the coffee machine going, the grind of the beans having Bucky shuffling into the kitchen with heavy lidded eyes in nothing but his navy blue boxer briefs. 

'Stevie?' he mumbles adorably, 'What time's it?'

'It's early, Buck,' Steve says softly, 'sorry to wake you.'

'Are you okay?' Steve's heart is full at how concerned Bucky sounds.

'Yeah, I went and got you breakfast,' Steve moves to sit Bucky at the bench, 'there's something I want to say.' 

'Oh, God.' 

'No! It's not bad, I swear.' Steve holds a hand out to Bucky, 'I mostly want to tell you I spoke to Peggy.' Bucky perks up at hearing that, and Steve continues, 'I told her the truth.'

'You what? Steve,' he starts, mildly outraged, 'The whole point of last night was to make her see you happy.'

'But that's just it, I am happy, Buck. You make me really happy.'

'Yes, by being your fake fiance,' he explains, exasperated.

'No,' Steve corrects him, 'By being my real boyfriend.'

Bucky stares at Steve with dawning comprehension. 'Don't tease me, Stevie.'

'I'm not teasing, I want this to be real too, Buck.'

'You do?' he asks, eyes wide.

'Yeah,' Steve moves closer, resting his hands on Bucky's thighs, 'I thought I was being kind of obvious about it, actually.'

'I couldn't tell if you did or if I was just wishing it too hard.' Bucky looks up at Steve and Steve leans down to press his lips to Bucky's.

'Will you be my boyfriend, Bucky?' he asks as he pulls slightly away.

'For real?'

'For real, Buck.'

Bucky reaches up and grabs Steve by his collar to pull him into a kiss, wrapping his legs around Steve's waist and grinning brightly.

'I guess I could try that.' 

Steve lifts him up and carries him to the bedroom wrapped around him, laughing into the kisses and sliding his hands under Bucky's amazing ass. 

If Steve could bottle what he's feeling, all the loose, innocent joy of this moment, he wouldn't even sell it, he would keep it forever.

They fall into bed and stay there for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is a fluffy epilogue
> 
> *throws Christmas fluff at you like confetti


	8. Christmas 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy happy epilogue xx

It's a typically miserable New York Christmas eve and Bucky is at the apartment, spiking Steve's cocoa and queueing Die Hard, ready to educate Steve on the correct way to experience Christmas. Steve sidles up to Bucky in the kitchen, smacks him with a kiss, ignores the cocoa and pulls him by the hand to the living area to sit down next to him on the couch, tucks Bucky's cold feet under his thighs and hands over a wrapped present.

‘What’s this?’ Bucky asks, ‘I get to open one early?’

'This one’s special,' Steve explains, eyes shining. 

‘Alright,’ Bucky plucks at the paper tentatively ‘I don’t have an early one for you-’

‘Quit yapping,’ Steve pulls him forward by the neck of his favourite blue cable knit (the one he appropriated from Steve’s wardrobe last Christmas) to kiss him again, ‘Open it!’

‘Okay, okay,’ Bucky laughs and rips into the present properly, unfolding the material he finds inside.

It's a Christmas sweater, Steve's giant face superimposed on a naked, kneeling elf, beside a speech bubble that says 'Marry me, Bucky,' in huge red font.

Steve watches Bucky take it in with eye widening comprehension and picks up his hand to thread their fingers together. ‘Thank you, Buck, for never making me feel like you're waiting for me to be better,’ he says to Bucky's stunned but beautiful face.

'Holy Shit, Steve!' there are tears in his eyes and his free hand is held to his chest.

Steve slides off the couch and gets down on one knee. 'Marry me?'

'For real?'

'For real, Buck,’ he smiles, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket, ‘I got a ring and everything.’

Bucky gently nods his head, sliding off the couch to kneel next to Steve on the ground. ‘Yeah, okay,’ he pulls Steve into a hug and buries his face in Steve’s neck like it’s home. ‘I guess I could do that.’

And they live happily ever after. 

*Bucky can't wait to tell Peggy he's pregnant. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
